Unwanted Dependence
by JenRar
Summary: Stephanie feels all alone as she deals with the aftermath of a stalking and kidnapping. With Ranger "in the wind" and an unwanted dependence on medication she's prescribed, how will she cope? Rated T for mature themes.


_Disclaimer: JE owns them. I do not._

~oooOOOooo~

**Unwanted Dependence**

~oOo~

**Stephanie's POV**

I curl up on my couch, wishing and praying that sleep will finally come. I've been up for almost two days straight, and I'm really hoping I can get some sleep. Then, at the very least, people will quit hounding me about looking tired. God, like I don't _know_ I look tired? How do they think I _feel_?

For the last eight months, sleep has been hard to come by. First, I'd had another stalker and had been through another kidnapping and assault. Like I haven't dealt with enough of those to last me a lifetime or two... This one had been particularly bad, since it was a really bad guy who took me. Not just another run-of-the-mill-for-Stephanie-Plum stalker. A truly bad dude, bailed out—stupidly—by Vinnie after being arrested for the rape of one woman and attempted rape of another. Add that to the fact that the police thought he was behind a third woman's rape and murder, even though they didn't have enough evidence to charge him, let alone convict him of the crimes—it's no wonder I'm having issues with the just over twenty-four hours I'd spent in his "company."

_For fuck's sake_, I think for probably the millionth time since it happened. _He wasn't even my skip!_

Yes, I work for Ranger and RangeMan, but I hadn't been the one to bring the guy in. It was Lester, Cal, Hector, and Tank! Why couldn't one of them have been the one the guy took for revenge? Well, I know why, but it still irritates me that this is just one more reason for my mother to complain about my job. Ranger had taken it personally, too, blaming himself for my abduction, even though it wasn't one of his past or present enemies that had taken me.

Then, on top of the kidnapping and assault, Ranger had gotten called away for a mission. It was supposed to be his last one, but it was a dangerous one. Now, nearly eight months later, he is still gone. He hated leaving, almost to the point that he'd refused, but he knew the consequences of telling them no would be more painful than accepting the mission. They would have been more painful than the two of us having to deal with being apart after only a week together since he'd rescued me.

On his first contact with Tank after he left, he'd asked Tank to get me to talk to a psychiatrist. Tank had told him how I was handling everything—or rather, how I _wasn't_ handling it. I'd tried for a few days after Ranger left to go about my normal routine, but it quickly became obvious that, even after everything I'd been through before, this time, I couldn't live in the land of denial.

I was anxious all the time. I couldn't sleep. I wasn't eating anything that required more than opening a bag of chips or making a sandwich occasionally. It wasn't that I wasn't hungry. Really, I just didn't have the energy, or the will, to order anything or ask anyone for help. Since Tank, Lester, and Bobby knew how much I liked both of those things, they knew something was seriously wrong. Bobby found a doctor for me to see, and after our first session, he prescribed two anti-anxiety medications and a sleeping pill for me to take.

It started off okay. I began to eat, although the medicines takes away my appetite enough that I only eat once a day most of the time. I don't even eat my Tastykakes or doughnuts anymore. Ella tries to feed me dessert, but by the time I've eaten not quite a plateful of food, I'm full.

The sleeping pills help me sleep. In fact, they help _too much_. When I take them, I tend to sleep twice as long as a normal person. I'll admit, I love sleeping, and if given a choice, I'd sleep as much as possible. I learned after about six weeks that I'm tired of it not being by choice.

I'm tired of feeling like I'm dependent on the drugs to deal with everything. I mean, it isn't like I haven't been through this before. Most of the people in the 'Burg, probably half the people in the entire state of New Jersey, could rattle off a list of the people who had kidnapped and assaulted me. Lord knows that Ranger's been on missions before. So I'm not sure why I'm having such a hard time handling it this time. Even so, I feel like a junkie.

When my mother found out I'd seen a psychiatrist and been put on medications, those were almost her exact words. I'd gone over for dinner one night a few weeks after beginning the medicines, even though I wasn't really hungry. I'd known that I could fake it, and I'd thought it would make her happy that I was there. She'd waited until everyone—including Val, Albert and the kids—were sitting there at the table. She'd watched me pretending to eat, pushing the food around my plate, eating a few small bites here and there, before she started in.

~oOo~

_"__Stephanie, I had a call from Ellen Sleazack today. What's this I hear about you taking drugs? What's wrong?"_

_My mouth gapes open, thinking maybe she is just concerned about me, for once, until she begins talking again, almost muttering under her breath to her plate._

"_Ellen's daughter has never had to see a shrink, and she certainly hasn't ever been on medication like this. Why me? What did I do wrong? Why can't she just get a job at the tampon factory, or marry Joseph and settle down like Valerie?"_

_I blow up at her. I've been through enough and am dealing with enough shit that this is the final straw._

_"__Thank you very much for your concern, Mother. Yes, I saw a psychiatrist, who has me on sleeping pills to help me sleep and anti-anxiety medications to help me deal with the aftermath of the...problem..I had and with Ranger being gone. I'm sorry if you're embarrassed. Don't worry, I'll leave now and you can pretend like you don't have a daughter that embarrasses or disappoints you every day of her life."_

_I throw my napkin down on the table and then kiss my grandmother, daddy, and the girls on the tops of their heads. "Daddy, I'm sorry to leave in the middle of dinner, but I need to go. I love you guys."_

_My eyes fill with tears and I grab my purse and flee the house._

~oOo~

That was over six months ago, and I haven't been back since. I spend most of the time at my apartment, unless I am picking up the low-bond skips I used to before going to work at RangeMan. I sent a letter to Tank, resigning, since I couldn't bear to go there in person, and went back to helping Lula with the skips like I had before. Vinnie is glad to have me back, since Joyce really isn't worth more than being his and the duck's fuck toy. I'm not making a lot of money, but it's keeping me in rent and the little food I'm eating, plus grapes and Cheerios for Rex.

My dad and grandma have tried calling, even coming by several times. Each time, I've told them I'm okay and I'm just having a rough time with Ranger being gone. I can tell the last few times that they didn't believe me. I finally canceled my cell phone, not able to pay the bill on it anymore. I was also tired of having to dodge calls from well-meaning friends and family on anything more than my house phone. At least with that, it's far easier to screen my calls and delete any messages immediately that I don't want to hear.

I swore Lula to secret about how badly I was really handling everything, imploring her that if she's my friend, she won't even tell Tank. No, _especially_ Tank. I know he would tell Ranger, and the last thing I want is for Ranger to be killed because he's distracted by my problems. In his line of work, it's all about where your mind's at. If you get distracted in the very least, it can get you or someone else killed. She was adamant about telling him until I told her why I don't want him to know, and since I've been forcing myself to act more normal in front of her, she's been keeping her word.

So, here I am, once again trying to sleep. When it gets bad enough, I give up and take the medicines, figuring if I'm not at least calm enough and well enough rested, then I won't be able to bring in even the few skips I'm bringing in now, and then I'll lose the apartment. I know if it comes to that, it'll be the last straw. It'll send me over the edge I'm so precariously perched on at the moment.

Unfortunately, I'm smart enough to realize that I _have_ to take the medicines to be able to function without constantly falling apart. After a few days of taking them, I begin to feel better, not nearly as anxious or afraid. Then I forget to take them for a few days, or sometimes I decide not to take them, that I don't need them anymore, and a few days after that, I begin feeling like an addict looking for a fix.

That's the point I'm at now. I'm shaking, my palms are sweaty, I have a continual headache and am just generally feeling crappy. I haven't slept in nearly two days, and I know I need to so that, at the very least, I don't get myself or someone else killed because of my judgment or lack thereof.

I'm like a yo-yo. When I'm on the medication, I feel better. I sleep better. I work better. I also eat better, even if I'm not eating enough. Then the feeling of resentment that I have to be on the meds kicks in, and I stop taking them for a few days, until my body goes into withdrawal.

I've hidden all, or most of it, from not only Lula and any of the family or friends I come across while not hiding from the world in my apartment, but from my doctor, as well. I tell him everything is fine, that I'm sleeping better, not feeling as anxious. He prescribes the medicine like clockwork, knowing when I need a refill and just assuming, since I'm not telling him otherwise, that I'm taking them like I should. In all honesty, I could probably open my own pharmacy with the amount of drugs I have stored in my bathroom now.

After thinking of everything, again, I begin to sob. I cry for a solid hour before finally forcing myself off the couch and into the bathroom, where I take out all three bottles and force the two anxiety medicines and a sleeping pill down my throat, glaring at myself in the mirror as I swallow them dry. I go back to the couch, curl under the blanket, and cry, hoping the medicine will force my body into sleep.

I am crying loudly and hard enough that nothing else registers. Not the sound of the lock slipping, nor the sound of a gasp or the rustle of clothing as someone makes their way to my side. I barely even jump when I feel a hand pull at the blanket I have covering me from my toes to the top of my head. Only when I hear the voice does my shaking and crying halt immediately.

"Babe?"

My eyes pop open and my arms push the blanket down to my waist before I fly into Ranger's arms. I can't speak, so I simply continue crying into his shoulder. He picks me up and sits down on the couch with me in his arms, his hand lightly stroking my back as he murmurs softly into my ears in Spanish. Soon, his voice begins to sound farther away and I feel darkness descend. My eyes are forced closed until I hear or see nothing else as I slip into a deep, long-overdue sleep.

~oooOOOooo~

**Ranger's POV**

I sit with Stephanie for a while after she falls asleep. She is way too thin and looks like death warmed over, although I will never tell her that. After a couple of hours, I slip my phone out of my pocket and call Tank, speaking quietly so as not to wake Steph.

"Ranger, man. You're back?" Tank's voice is quiet, so I'm assuming Lula is with him and he doesn't want to wake her.

"I am. Look, what's been going on with Stephanie? I got here and she was sobbing uncontrollably. She's way too thin and looks like she hasn't had a good night's rest in way too long. Explain."

I can hear him getting up and walking into another room so he can speak freely. "Sorry, I didn't want to wake Lula. I dunno, man. I thought she was doing better. I mean, I know she hasn't been eating enough, because even I could tell she was too thin the few times I've seen her, but Lula swears she was doing okay. She's been seeing that doctor, and he has her on medicine.

"She quit RangeMan and is back to doing low-bond skips for Vinnie. When I questioned her about it, she said that being there with you gone was too painful a reminder and she would prefer I not talk to her about it."

My throat tightens painfully when I hear that.

"Lula lets me know when they're going to get a skip, and I always have at least one of the guys keeping an eye on them in case they need help. Other than being a bit down about you being away, I thought she was doing okay."

I grit my teeth. Looking down at my Babe, even in the darkness, I can tell she isn't okay. "I don't think she's okay, Tank. Not by a long shot. I came in, and she didn't hear me at all, even from the couch, until I said something. She cried in my arms for a while until she finally just fell asleep. I want to take her to Point Pleasant to get away for a while, just the two of us. Could you please bring me some clothes and the car? I had a cab drop me off here. I think I'll try to go tonight, even before she wakes up. I think she'll sleep through it without a problem if the dark circles under her eyes are any indication."

"Yeah, man, give me twenty." He hangs up without another word.

Twenty minutes later, he and Lester let themselves in quietly. "Hey, man, good to see you back. What do you need?"

I look at Steph and know I can't put her down to gather her things. "Could you guys gather up her stuff from the bathroom and a few changes of clothes? I'll buy her anything else she needs while we're there."

They nod and quietly head down the hall to gather the things I'd asked for.

Five minutes later, Tank comes back into the room carrying her makeup bag. "Damn, Ranger. You should see the bottles of medicine she had hidden in the cabinet. She hasn't been taking the medicine like her doctor thought she had."

Lester walks in with her bag of clothes, and Tank slips the makeup bag, along with the other items from the bathroom—including three bottles of pills—into the bag before zipping it closed.

"We'll carry this to the car for you and lock up," Lester tells me quietly.

I nod and stand up carefully, shifting Stephanie more comfortably in my arms.

The three of us make our way down the stairs after locking up her apartment. Lester is carrying the bag and Tank is carrying the hamster cage.

"I'll have the guys keep an eye on him so Steph doesn't have to worry," Tank says quietly.

"Thanks, man. Thank you guys for the help. I'll call you in a couple of days. I'm offline until I tell you otherwise."

I carefully load Steph into the front seat, buckling her in, and then go around and climb into the driver's seat. I give them a nod as I back out and head toward the beach house I own in Point Pleasant.

Stephanie sleeps soundly the entire way, my hand resting lightly on top of hers, stroking her skin softly. I don't enter my "zone," as Steph calls it, the entire trip. Instead, I alternate between watching the road and carefully watching her, worried at how listless she seems and how hard she's sleeping.

I pull up at the house and press my thumb to the scanner at the gate before entering the code that allows us entrance. After parking, I grab the bags and sling them over my shoulder before carefully picking up my Babe and carrying her to the front door of the house. I can hear the waves breaking in the water not far behind the house and instantly feel more calm than I have in eight months.

After unlocking the door, I walk us inside and quietly shut the door behind me, immediately going upstairs to the master bedroom. I gently lay Steph down on the bed and drop the bags quietly. Stripping off my clothes first, I pull out a pair of boxers from my bag. I don't bother with the bedding under Stephanie; I just pull a blanket out of the closet and cover us both with it. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close to my chest. It doesn't take long for me to drift off to sleep, feeling her quiet snore against my skin pulling me under.

I'm not sure what time it is when I am woken up by the feeling of Stephanie's fingers drawing lazy circles on my chest. "Babe," I say softly, smiling down at her.

"Ranger, where are we?"

"Point Pleasant. You looked, uh, well, exhausted last night, and when you cried yourself to sleep, I decided we both needed time away, just the two of us. The guys have Rex, and we're here until you are ready to go home. You want to talk about what's wrong?"

She stiffens in my arms, immediately withdrawing from me. "Nothing's wrong. Why would you say that?"

I pull her back against me and tilt her chin up with one hand, gazing into her eyes. "Babe, you've never lied to me before. Don't start now." I feel her weakening and decide I have to play the card I know she can never resist. I can't help her if she won't talk to me honestly. "Please," I whisper, my eyes never leaving hers.

She starts crying softly and begins speaking. She spends twenty minutes telling me everything, from how she isn't taking the medicines like she should and about her having not spoken with her mother in months.

My heart breaks when she says, "So anyway, after everything, I'm wiped out. I can't seem to catch up on sleep, especially if I don't take those damned pills, which I hate. The days seem endless, and the nights are even worse. Worst of all, I was afraid I was going to spend the entire summer feeling all alone, even though I spent at least part of each day with Lula and your guys in the background to keep me safe."

At my startled glance, she says, "Yes, I knew they were there. Honestly, it made me feel better knowing they were. I couldn't seem to get up the energy to talk to anyone, including them, but I was glad they were there. Anyway, that's pretty much it. I hate the medicines, but even worse, I hate knowing I need them. I just don't know how to handle that."

"Thank you for being honest. Babe, I think you need to talk to someone. I know you're seeing the psychiatrist, so if you're comfortable with him, you need to actually _talk_ to him. If you aren't comfortable talking to him, we'll find you someone you are comfortable talking to."

"I think I'll be okay talking to him. Now that you're home, hopefully we can start to work me off the medicine so I don't go into the withdrawal I've been going through when I stop taking them. The rest of it, I'd just like to talk to you about, if that's okay."

She bites her lip, looking down at my chest, seeming worried I that won't be okay with that.

"I think that's a great idea, Babe. Please, don't be embarrassed or hate yourself for needing the medicine. Tank, Bobby, Lester, and I have all been on medicine like that at one time or another. After Scrog, I took sleeping pills for a month before I was finally able to sleep without them. After going through what you went through, then with me being gone, it's understandable you would need help dealing with it. It doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't make you a junkie. It makes you human. The most important thing is your health. The medicines help with that. So please, take them until you talk, openly and honestly, with the doctor."

She nods against my chest. "I can do that."

~oOo~

**Two Months Later**

"Hey, Ranger," Steph says as she breezes into my office. "Want to come up with me for lunch on seven? Ella said she was making chicken salad."

I smile. "Love to, Babe. Meet you up there in ten minutes, okay? I need to finish up this paperwork, and then I'll be up."

She comes over and kisses me softly. "Hurry up there. Maybe there will be time for dessert after lunch," she says, winking.

I pull her into my lap and kiss her soundly, swatting her on the bottom after I stand her back up. "You little minx. Now I'll have to walk out of my office with a little problem," I say, glancing down at my lap.

She grins and nods before hurrying out of the office.

I smile and quickly finish the paperwork. Before leaving to go upstairs, I think about the last two months. Stephanie had been honest with the doctor, telling him how powerless the medicine made her feel and everything else she had shared with me. He lowered her dosage for the sleeping pills so she is able to take one and sleep the night through but wake up in the morning and feel well-rested, rather than sleeping the day away. He had also slowly weaned her from the anti-anxiety medicines, telling her that if she felt like she was unable to feel in control again, to come back and talk to him.

Since I am home for good, she talks to me a lot, and in the two months since I've been home, she's made a lot of progress. She is back to being the Stephanie that she likes and I love. She still has moments of anxiety about what happened, but she always talks to me when she starts feeling that way, instead of bottling it up and letting it eat away at her until she is a shell, like she'd been when I first got back.

I decide I've been musing long enough and almost run out of my office and up the stairs to seven, needing to feel her near me again, even though it's only been six hours since I woke up with her wrapped around me in a sound sleep. It has been a long year, but I know without a doubt, as I finger the box in my pocket, that the next year will be much better. For both of us.


End file.
